


And I Never Saw You Coming

by thatsn0m00n



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: M/M, Take it easy on me pls, This is my first fic being published so fair warning it could be bad!, angsty pining, ezra is ezra and tristan just has to be tristan about it, mostly canon shenanigans, tristan my boy...ur gay., yes the title is a taylor swift lyric. you think thats cheesy? wait til you see the chapter names.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsn0m00n/pseuds/thatsn0m00n
Summary: This is just Legacy of Mandalore through Heroes of Mandalore pt. 2 but from Tristan’s perspective, and with a Trizra flair, because woooooooo rewriting canon is fun!
Relationships: Ezra Bridger/Tristan Wren, Sabine Wren & Tristan Wren, Tristan Wren & The Ghost Crew, Tristan Wren & Ursa Wren, he gets to meet all of them!!! mostly
Comments: 21
Kudos: 70





	1. And I’ll Never Be The Same

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is a little rough because I’m just working from Legacy of Mandalore and that episode is VERY dialogue heavy with little room for extra tidbits. So, I just dedicated this first chapter to introducing Tristan to Ezra and the crew, and interpreting how he might feel about his big sis returning after so long :)  
> I didn’t mark graphic depictions of violence as a tag but there is mention of Tristan’s past experiences with the Super Commandos involving torture and public humiliation of prisoners (nothing of detail, just a mention) and a fight between Sabine and Gar Saxon in the first chapter. Obviously, this fic wont be free of fight scenes, because it is Star Wars.

As soon as Tristan Wren landed in the snow at the location of his sister's crash, he could tell that Krownest's newest visitors were different. His worries were further confirmed when one of them pulled out a lightsaber and immediately evoked a fight.

Was he excited to see his sister? Somewhat. They hadn't seen each other in years. Sabine left Mandalore when he was eleven, labeled as a blood traitor and betrayer of her people. The horrors his older sister had unleashed on their people were unforgivable, or so he was told by almost everyone calling for Clan Wren to be cast out. Their clan was disgraced and his father was taken away from him, and he and his mother had to work to fix what Sabine had destroyed. And now, she has the audacity to show up asking for assistance with two Jedi, two who Tristan is sure have replaced his own people for her new family.

Jealousy wasn't quite the right word for it, but he couldn't help but feel a coldness towards the new visitors. He hadn't met any Jedi in his lifetime but he had heard the stories his mother told from her time with Death Watch, how one in particular had destroyed an entire camp full of Mandalorians after her capture. He didn't know what they were capable of and for that, he was weary. Tristan knew Governor Saxon would be equally upset and excited to find that they were there and within capture, but giving them up may also mean risking Sabine's safety, something he knew his mother was concerned about. He was so deep in his own worry that he didn't hear his sister calling his name from behind him.

"Tristan! Tristan, wait up!" She yelled, pushing forward from the middle of the group. "Let me talk to you for a minute."

He stopped in his tracks, turning to see Sabine struggling though the deep snow. The two Jedi were a few paces behind, visibly cold and equally grumpy with their current situation. The tallest one, who he could assume was blind, was leaning on the youngest one for support. Ezra, Sabine had called him, the one who deflected his fire, grumbled as he kicked at the drifts, clearing the way for his blind mentor.

"What is it?" he asked, slowing his pace so that the Jedi could keep up.

"How is..." Sabine paused, huffing aggravatingly when her foot got caught on a hidden tree root. "How is everything?"

"What do you mean?"

"At home. How is it?"

"Since you left? I'm not sure how much has changed, other than the heightened Imperial occupation," he said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. Sabine noticed and held her distance back a little, brows furrowed.

"How can you wear that armor, Tristan? How could you join them?"

Tristan turned his head and paused for a moment, trying to find an answer. "You shouldn't have come back, Sabine," he said, as they finally cleared the tree line.

"Thanks."

* * *

Tristan led his sister and the Jedi to their home, pausing at the bottom of the steps to greet his mother. The thick durasteel walls, paired with the blue-grey glass windows made it look just as bleak and foreboding as ever against the grey sky. It jutted out like an outcropping on a mountain, obliquely square but somehow looking as if it had belonged there. The front door slid open, and the Countess met them at the top of the stairs, removing her helmet to look down at the newest visitors.

"So, it's true then," Ursa mused, upon seeing her daughter for the first time in years.

"Mother—" Sabine started, trying to argue her defense.

"Put her in a cell. She'll be held for trial," she commanded. The warrior standing with them reached out to grab Sabine's arm, but she swatted it away.

"Mother!" Sabine reached to the strange hilt hanging off her belt and held it in the air. "We need to talk."The blade ignited, and every being in the area grew quiet. All that could be heard was the faint, mechanical hum of her black blade.

"The Darksaber," Ursa said, obviously surprised. Tristan stood back, taking in the sight. The Darksaber was a weapon of Mandalorian legend, something he'd never thought he'd see in his life, and now his sister had come home wielding it for all to see. Sabine cleared her throat and put the sword away, gesturing to the Jedi who now stood behind her.

"Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger, this is my mother, the Countess Ursa Wren."

The younger Jedi's eyes widened in surprise. "Hi—" he lifted his arm in greeting and every warrior immediately lifted their weapons to fire. His hands immediately dropped and went behind his back as he ducked behind his master. "Woah, hey! No, no," he stammered. "Just saying hello." Tristan was glad his helmet hid the smile formed at Bridger's expense. Obviously, this boy was inexperienced in the art of formal greetings. Fighting had yet to be seen on a full scale. His shoulder still ached from his deflected fire.

"What did you expect would happen here, Sabine?" Ursa asked. "That you'd be welcomed with open arms? You're wanted by the Empire!"

"I know, but I'm part of the Rebellion now. Please hear what I have to say," Sabine pleaded.

Tristan watched as his mother considered this, eyeing the Jedi wearily. After all those stories about Jedi, though most of them were about a specific Togruta, he wasn't surprised that she would be worried about letting them inside their own house. "I will tolerate the Jedi presence in our ancestral home," she said finally, "if they surrender their weapons." Ursa turned and walked back inside the stronghold, leaving Sabine and Tristan to confiscate their possessions.

Sabine turned her back to him and walked over to the Jedi, huffing indignantly. "Well, that went better than expected."

"That was better?" Ezra asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I hope you're not really expecting us to hand over our lightsabers, are you?"

The older Jedi, Kanan, set his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "We need to do whatever it takes to make this work," he said, stressing the last few words. Whatever they had planned depended on his Clan liking their new visitors.

"They'll be safe, Ezra," Sabine reassured, holding out her hand. Ezra paused for a moment, mulling it over.

"All right," he sighed, unclipping his sword from his belt and handing it over to Sabine. Kanan did the same thing, and Sabine handed them over to one of the guards.

Tristan turned and led the four into the stronghold, walking down the hall and arriving in the main chamber. His mother stood at the back of the room, with her warriors lining the glass walls. Kanan, Ezra, and Sabine were brought forward for their further interrogation by Ursa. He watched as Ezra fidgeted nervously under the watch of the warriors. Though he was smaller in frame, Tristan could assume that they were around the same age. His jaw was locked and his eyebrows were low set, giving away his concern as his eyes darted around the chamber. Tristan removed his helmet and stood next to his mother's throne, making eye contact with him briefly. Ezra's eyes widened a little as he gave Tristan a once-over, then he hurriedly looked to Ursa. Or rather, the portrait of herself on the wall behind them. Though he was harder to read, Kanan remained stoic through it all, mouth pursed and arms at his sides non-threateningly.

"Your rebel friends are going to bring the Empire down on all of us," Ursa said. "You think the Darksaber is going to protect you? It won't." She sat down on her throne. "It's only a symbol."

"Yeah, a symbol that's united all Mandalorians in the past," Sabine argued. "Look, if we stand together now—"

"Stand together? Sabine! It's everything I can do to keep the other Clans from destroying us because of what you did."

"I didn't know the Empire would use the weapon I designed against our people!" Sabine crossed her arms, looking miffed. "But you don't believe me, do you?" she asked, glaring at their mother.

"Even if I did, it wouldn't change all the other ruling houses from seeing you as a traitor," Ursa said. Tristan looked to his mother as she gestured towards him. "Your own brother now serves Gar Saxon to prove our loyalty, and regain some small amount of status."

"Gar Saxon is a killer!" Sabine yelled, mostly at him rather than their mother. Tristan stepped forward to argue his case. She had a point, after all, and he did agree that Saxon was a disgrace to Mandalorian society. However, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice in joining their ranks. It was that, or risk losing his father, or die himself.

"He's the Emperor's Hand, the acting ruler and Governor of Mandalore—"

"—And his men _wiped out_ the Protectors!"

"The Protectors were executed for treason, just as Fenn Rau will be when he is found," Ursa interjected.

"They were loyal to Mandalore and Saxon betrayed them!"

"Enough!" Ursa stood from her throne and crossed her arms. "Fenn Rau's people are dead, and mine are not. And I intend to keep them that way. All of them."

Sabine's head bowed at the finality of her mother's statement. "Except for me."

Tristan looked to his mother, whose frown lessened at her daughter's words. He could tell she still cared for Sabine; if she truly believed she was a traitor and a villain, she would have had her imprisoned or even killed on sight. Even then, she was still her daughter, and his sister. He had every right to be mad at her for leaving him to care for his Clan and protect his mother, but he still couldn't help but feel for Sabine for what she had gone through.

Ursa extended her hand and waved to the balcony doors. "Walk with me," she commanded, firmly. Sabine begrudgingly followed her out the door, both she and her brother knowing the lecture, argument, or most likely both, that was about to happen outside.

Ezra watched them leave and then swiveled back around, arms stiff at his sides as he realized the awkwardness of their situation. All the warriors' attention was directed on him and Kanan, and though the elder Jedi was blind, he could probably feel their eyes on him.

"So...you're Sabine's brother?" Ezra offered a polite smile. "Hm. I didn't even know she had a brother— I mean, it's not that she didn't want to talk about you," he stuttered. 'but she just, I don't know, she never really talked about you before."

Tristan cocked his head, watching as the young Jedi awkwardly rubbed his arm.

"Ezra," Kanan mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"Less is more."

Ezra smiled, gesturing to Tristan. "Aren't we here to make friends?"

"Just— let me handle the negotiating," Kanan replied, obviously entertained by his mentee's lack of social skills. Tristan had to agree with him— it was entertaining to see someone assumed to be a graceful warrior stumble over his words so much. He could tell from his mother's stories that Ezra wasn't a conventional Jedi. His master, however, remained to be seen.

"So...she never mentioned me?" Tristan asked, trying not to sound too wounded. He wasn't too surprised that he didn't come up in conversation. It was to be expected from his sister to behave as though she didn't have a family. After all, they had been the ones to kick her out. But it still stung a little.

Ezra whipped his head back around to look at him, blue eyes widening. "No. Sorry—" he added, as if he didn't know what else to say. There was a long pause, as Ezra looked to Kanan and then back to Tristan. Between the awkward posture and the orange getup, he stuck out like a Tauntaun on a sandy dune.

"To be fair, she didn't talk about any of you," Kanan said, coming to Ezra's assistance. "Even _I_ didn't know. You could all have been banthas and we'd have no idea."

"Sabine doesn't really open up that much," Ezra added. 

Tristan looked down at his feet, then to the helmet he held in the crook of his arm. "I wouldn't know. I was eight when she went to the Academy. She left there when I was eleven. My mother and I have been the only leading members of Clan Wren since then."

"What about your father?" Kanan asked.

"He's alive, but not here," Tristan said. "The Empire is holding him on Mandalore, in Sundari, as leverage. If the Clan acts against them, they'll kill him."

Ezra's brows furrowed together as he sorted out the grimness of the situation. "I guess that makes our presence here a little...inconvenient," he decided, looking to Kanan. The older Jedi nodded in agreement.

One of the warriors strode in from the hall and approached Tristan. "We're receiving a transmission from Sundari. Gar Saxon would like to speak with the Countess," he said. Tristan looked out the grey-blue stained glass to see his mother and Sabine still arguing outside. The glass was thick enough to where he couldn't hear what was being said, but they seemed to be going at it.

"I'll tell her. Thank you," he said, nodding to the warrior. 

"Uh oh," Ezra said, very observantly. Kanan nudged him with an elbow.

"You don't know what the message is about. They could be asking about anything."

"Or, they know about you," Tristan said, making his way to the door. He heard Ezra whisper a "wow, so cheerful" as the thick durasteel door slid shut and ignored it, nodding to his mother in greeting.

"Mother, you're being summoned by Sundari," he said, stepping aside to let his mother through. He and Sabine remained outside. She looked calm, as if she'd actually won their argument.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"You know Mom. She hasn't changed," Sabine said, rolling her eyes.

"No, but its nothing a little sparring practice wont work out. You game?"

A small smile spread across Sabine's face, as she remembered their fights from when they were younger. "Sure," she said. "It's been a long time since I put you in your place."

* * *

The siblings quietly walked down the hall, helmets in hand, not sure what to say to make up for the past couple of years. Not that there really was anything you could say. Tristan had offered to fight with her as a way to keep the peace, for the moment, but he couldn't help but still feel aggravated with his sister. He wanted to get to know her better, truly, and he had missed her. But he still felt angry with her for the position she'd put everyone in. It wasn't entirely her fault, yes, but it didn't help that she'd come back at one of the worst times possible.

"So. Dad's on Mandalore?" Sabine asked, slightly snapping Tristan out of his train of thought.

"Yeah. Mom tell you?"

"How long has he been gone?"

"Since a few months after the Academy kicked you out. It's been years since we've seen him face to face. Who knows what they're doing to him in Sundari." He shuddered, thinking about the brutal shows of strength that had been performed on the Mandalorians before. He'd seen some of it firsthand, unwilling members of his Commando squadron put to death for challenging the Governor, others horribly tortured and publicly humiliated.

Sabine sighed, running a hand through her white and purple hair. She looked as if she wanted to say something about it, but then decided against it, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Your friends are quite interesting," Tristan said, redirecting their attention. Anything to keep him from thinking about dad. "You must be having a whole lot of fun out there with your Rebellion."

"Oh, Ezra and Kanan?"

Tristan thought back to the younger Jedi who was probably still arguing with whomever for his freedom in the main room. "Yeah. Those two."

"Kanan took me in when I was on the run. He and Hera gave me a home with their crew when Ketsu...left me. I probably would have been picked up by the Black Sun, or worse, if it weren't for them," she said. She broadly gestured with her other arm. "Then, a couple years ago, we picked up Ezra on Lothal. He's annoying but...he has his good days," she said, a fond smile creeping up on her face. Tristan tried to ignore it.

"Are you..." he started. Sabine looked at him questioningly. "You know," he shrugged, not finding the right words.

Sabine realized what he was trying to say and insinuation seemed to make her want to gag. "Oh, Force forbid it. I'd rather die, Tristan!"

Tristan let out a dry chuckle. "Okay, forget I asked."

"Ezra is like, an annoying friend, or a little cousin. He's like a brother to me—," she faltered and blinked, realizing what she'd done, and looked down at the floor.

Tristan's mood dipped immediately.

They both remained silent for the rest of their short walk, refraining from speaking until their sparring began. Sabine tossed him a staff and took up one of her own, getting into position and nodding for Tristan to make the first move. He swung high and Sabine blocked him, he swung low and was blocked again. She'd gotten more graceful in her dodging, using her smaller sized to dart around him and keep him from landing his blows. He adjusted his swings to her movements, tightening up his strokes and watching closely as she dodged around him. She went into a backflip, forcing Tristan to move closer and lunge out. She parried and twisted around, but he was too quick. He managed to sweep her feet and knock her back, smacking the staff out of her hands. She looked up, out of breath, and held out a hand for assistance.

"You've been practicing, brother," she said, trying to diffuse the situation. Tristan ignored the hand and stepped back, forcing her to get back up on her own. She realized this and frowned, pushing herself to her feet and getting back into ready position.

"Lemme guess. You think I'm a traitor, too," she said.

"No. But when you left, the other Clans turned their backs on us," he swung his staff upwards, readying to strike, feeling his anger rise up again. "We lost everything!" He swung out, and Sabine blocked him.

"Our power in the capital!" He swung again. Sabine blocked again. He kept lashing out, his sister neatly deflecting each movement. "Our respect and our honor. If I can restore our family's name, if I can protect father, then I have to try! Saxon promised!"

"Gar Saxon cannot be trusted!" Sabine argued. Tristan grunted under the force of her retaliation, knocking the end of her staff away from him.

"Mother trusts him! Enough to trade the Jedi for your safety!" he said, standing back. The plot was out. He regretted saying it immediately when he saw the look on Sabine's face. She looked up in horror as the hum of engines passed overhead.

"Mother, what have you done?" She tossed the staff aside, booking it out of the room and leaving Tristan alone in the dimming light.Tristan frowned, mentally kicking himself for his big mouth, and threw his staff aside. He followed her back to the main chamber, where the majority of the Clan had gathered. Each had a blaster trained on the Jedi. Kanan had a grim frown on his face, standing absolutely still. Ezra looked around in terror, shoulders hunched like a frightened animal.

"Mother, you can't do this!" Sabine screamed, planting herself between her mother and the Jedi defensively.

"Yes, she can," came a voice from behind them. Governor Saxon approached the group from the adjoining hall, moving to stand next to Ursa's throne. "Because she is loyal. Just not to you." He turned to the Countess. "I believe you have something else for me?"

Ursa looked pensively to the Darksaber she now held in her hands, then up at Sabine. She then tossed it to Saxon, much to Sabine's horror.

"No!" she called out, stopping in her tracks when Tristan grabbed her arm.

"Sabine," he warned. "This is for the best." She struggled against him, dipping her head in defeat, knowing she wouldn't be able to defend herself against Saxon now. 

"I've upheld my end of the bargain, Saxon," Ursa negotiated. "You have the Darksaber. Take the Jedi and let my daughter go."

Saxon looked at Sabine. "Your mother betrayed everything you believe in to save you," he said smugly, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "It's...admirable. Except, she consorted with known traitors to do it."

"What are you talking about?" Ursa asked indignantly.

"Why, Countess, you are harboring Rebels here," he said, gesturing to Kanan and Ezra. "Clan Wren is clearly a threat to the Empire, and must be made an example of."

The members of Clan Wren raised their blasters and pointed them to the Imperial Mandalorians, who did the same. Ursa stood from her throne, a full scowl spreading across her face at the betrayal. Tristan moved between Sabine and Saxon, holding his arms out.

"Please, Governor, wait!" he pleaded. "It doesn't gave to be this way. We are all Mandalorians." He'd seen Saxon do a lot in the name of the Empire and let it go, but he couldn't let him hurt Sabine's friends,no matter how much he didn't like them.

Saxon cocked his head, voice lowering to what Tristan assumed was supposed to be a fatherly tone. "I've been fair to you, Tristan, and you've served me well. I'll give you a choice. Stand with me," he gestured to himself, "or die with your family."

Those were some steep choices. 

Tristan looked from his mother, to Saxon, then back to Sabine. He pulled out his blaster, looking down at the gun in his hand. Had he not been trained better, he'd probably be shaking. He turned to Sabine, who frowned disappointedly at him, and then aimed for Saxon. "I choose family," he said. Sabine gasped, almost joyously, behind him.

Saxon scowled. "Then Clan Wren ends here," he said, igniting the Darksaber. Their altercation was cut off by another Mandalorian in bright blue armor busting though one of the windows. Tristan recognized his markings as that of the Protectors, and realized this specific warrior must be Fenn Rau. He realized he must of hidden in the Jedi's crashed ship when they arrived to investigate, and waited back to assist them in escaping should something go wrong. He was caught between beating himself up for making such a rookie mistake in not checking the ship, and also thanking the gods for the fact that he hadn't. Rau tossed the Jedi's lightsabers to them, which he must have re-stolen from the guard who took them. The blades ignited, blue and green, and the Imperials began to fire. Tristan ducked and took cover, firing on the Imperials closest to him.

"Took you long enough!" shouted Kanan, who began routinely blocking blasts as if it were just busy work, impressive without sight.

"Rau!" Saxon growled, opening fire on the blue warrior.

Tristan heard Rau bite back with some clever retort for Kanan over the blaster fire. He focused his attention on the Imps crowding his mother's throne. She was hunched on the other side, ducking as shots whizzed overhead. Saxon moved to strike her with the Darksaber, and Sabine took notice, but not before one of the Imperials could shoot her gun out of her hand. Ezra tossed her his lightsaber, and she ignited it, moving to block Saxon from hurting their mother.

Tristan watched as Ezra took aim with the blaster he kept in his holster, firing on the Imperials with surprising accuracy. Shots whizzed by his head as he ducked beside them, almost gracefully, using one as a shield as he fired on another hovering above them. It was amazing, really. The boy had been nothing but awkward and annoying, and now in the heat of the battle, he was efficiently taking down trooper after trooper with ease, _sans_ armor.

Tristan got so caught up in watching that he nearly jumped out of his uniform when Sabine and Saxon crashed through the window and onto the icy lake outside. He finished the last Imperial and the crowd moved to the balcony outside, where they could see Sabine sliding backwards on the ice as Saxon slashed at her. They could hear the dark blade whizzing though the air with it's strange hum, crackling as it hit the snow below them with every brutal swing. Sabine managed to slide away and climb to her feet, igniting Ezra's green blade and blocked Saxon's attacks. She was surprisingly graceful with the lightsaber, despite herself. The Jedi must have trained her in using one, seeing that any normal person might have cut their head off already.

Ezra moved to help her but was cut off by Ursa, who grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. "By Mandalorian custom and law, no one can interfere," she said.

"Are your customs more important than the life of your daughter?" Kanan asked angrily.

Ezra joined Tristan on the edge of the balcony where they watched Sabine twist between Saxon's swings, dodging his shots when he took off into the air. She distracted him with her flamethrower, moving behind him where she could shoot a dart at his jet pack, igniting it and sending him on a smoky whirlwind of a ride. He crashed onto the ice, then pushed himself to his feet, looking relieved when his pack didn't blow up while still on him.

"I'm impressed, you have _some_ skill," he hissed, wiping the snow from his face. "But not enough to save you!" He ignited his saber.

"That's funny, I was about to say the same thing to you," Sabine said, moving to ready position. The two danced across the ice, the layers cracking under their feet. Sabine managed to land a kick to Saxon's nose, knocking him off balance. She blocked the rest of his strikes, then slashed at his arm, knocking the Darksaber out of his hand. She grabbed it and held both blades to his throat.

"Yield," she demanded, looking very proud of herself. Tristan looked to see Ursa also looked impressed. He and the rest of the group moved to the edge of the lake, standing in awe as Saxon glowered at Sabine.

"I'll never yield to you, girl!" he spat. "You'll have to kill me."

Tristan watched in anticipation as Sabine considered this, eyebrows furrowed as she glowered at the Governor. "That might be the Mandalorian way, but it's not my way. Not anymore." She nodded to Tristan, who took this cue to start moving across the ice to retrieve Governor. Before he could make it halfway there, Saxon pulled out his other blaster and a shot rang out across the lake. Sabine froze in her tracks, slowly turning to see Saxon hunch over his wound, crumpling to the ice below. Tristan looked to the bank to see his mother lower her blaster.

"No one threatens our family," she said, placing a hand on Sabine's shoulder.

"Gar Saxon was guilty of treason against the throne, collaboration with our enemy, and the execution of our fellow Protectors," Rau said, joining the three on the ice. He scowled down at Saxon's dead body, looking as if he'd like to kick him. "But when Mandalore finds out about his death, there will be chaos."

"Perhaps Mandalore needs chaos if it's to become strong once again," Ursa said. She looked to Sabine. "And, so they might find a leader worthy of our people."

Sabine considered this, following their mother back to the shore. Rau bent over and retrieved Saxon's body, passing it off to a few Wren warriors to be dealt with. The Jedi approached the group, Kanan stepping forward first and placing a hand on Sabine's shoulder.

"That was quite the show, I'm sure," Kanan said, earning himself a smile from Sabine.

"Thanks to you. Besides, he was worse with a sword than Ezra," she teased.

"Hey!" Ezra shouted. "I'm not that bad!" 

Kanan waved a hand. "Ezra, can you call Chop and tell him to please bring the shuttle in?"

Ezra grumbled in response, pressing a button on his comlink. "Chop, you there?" The warbling noises of what seemed to be a cranky astromech droid sounded from his comm.

"Oh, boo hoo," Ezra laughed, "poor Chopper had to fix the ship himself. Don't be such a baby. We need you at the stronghold. I'm sending coordinates."

"Who's Chopper?" Tristan asked, leaning towards his sister.

"He's...Hera's. And a handful." 

* * *

Tristan looked up to see the rebels' white and yellow shuttle clear the tree line and land in the clearing. An old, orange and white C1 astromech waved his metal appendages around and warbled a...greeting? Ezra stepped forward with his hands on his hips.

"Sure, now you show up when all the fighting is over," he teased, a coy grin spread across his face. Chopper warbled again, and though his binary was rough, Tristan could tell it was something along the lines of, _you try fixing a shuttle by yourself with two short arms_ followed by a few Twi’leki curses. He couldn't blame him for being grumpy; if he were as old as a C1-series, he'd be angry with Ezra's teasing too.

Both of the Jedi and Sabine ignored Chopper's continued warbling. "The Empire will come for you once they find out what's happened here," Kanan said, turning to Ursa. "The Rebellion can help."

Ursa stepped forward. "The same Rebellion that sent you for my help? No. Mandalore must rise by itself. We protect our own."

"So do we," Kanan said. "Sabine?" he nodded towards the shuttle.

"She's right," Sabine said, with a nod of her head.

Ezra's eyes widened again. "Wait, so...you're not coming with us?" he asked, sounding wistful. Chopper also voiced his concerns.

"I'm done running away. My father's on Mandalore. We'll find a way to get him back. And then..." she paused, dipping her head. "Then, maybe we can join the fight against the Empire. But, right now, I can do more good here."

Tristan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd figured, at the end of this, Sabine would pick up and leave again, leaving him and his mother to deal with their mess. The Jedi remained silent for a few seconds, Ezra's eyebrows lowering into a sorrowful frown. Chopper warbled sadly, arms drooping at his sides.

"I am so..." Kanan started, at a loss for words.

"Do _not_ say you're proud of me," Sabine interrupted.

"Me? Never," he joked, taking a step back when Sabine hugged him. "But I am going to miss you." 

"We all will," Ezra agreed, smiling fondly. Sabine thanked them, and they boarded the shuttle without her. Tristan swore Ezra was dragging his feet the entire time. He watched the shuttle break the atmosphere as he followed his mother up the stairs and into their home, and had an odd feeling in his gut that it wasn't the last he'd be seeing of Ezra Bridger.


	2. You Come Around and the Armor Falls (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ft. some Angry Teen Angst and Pining from Tristan. The poor boy still wants to find him annoying, but nobody is immune to Ezra's charms! This chapter was over 10k words, and I decided to split it up into two parts so that I could publish this half first, since it's been so long. Sorry if it's still so choppy, I was genuinely struggling with writing chapter 2 and was worried about how long it had been since I last posted.  
> I feel I should mention after I posted this: this chapter has brief mentions of...childhood trauma, I guess? Basically, Tristan talks about his time as a super commando. Again, nothing explicit, but I feel I should leave a warning for mentioned violence and things of that nature.

* * *

A week had passed since Sabine came home, and things were just as awkward as Tristan assumed they would become. Every day they greeted each other with a nod of the head, took up their things and parted ways. He wanted to apologize for lashing out during their sparring practice, but as the days went on, it seemed more and more irrelevant. Even if they had talked, Tristan wasn't sure what he could say. How do you make up for so much lost time? He knew he shouldn't feel as if he'd been cheated out of anything, as so many others were deprived of even _having_ a family of their own. But even now, Sabine was nineteen, almost twenty. No longer a child, wise in the ways of the world— and he never got to watch it happen. While she helped lead a Rebellion, he led patrol groups and tried his hardest to live in a world where his predecessors had torn everything apart. 

When Tristan wasn't needed by his mother or on patrol outside, he wandered the stronghold aimlessly, looping from room to room. Sleeping was too hard nowadays, and he'd read most every holobook and actual book in the stronghold. Most days he worried about his father, others were spent worrying about his and his mother's safety. However, today found him standing in Sabine's bedroom. 

It had been stripped clean, every one of her belongings either thrown out by them, or thrown out by the Empire when she defected. The only thing that remained was the murals she had painted when she was younger. He realized, now that he was standing in her room, that he'd never really looked closely at her artwork. It was crude, mainly because she was only a child when she had painted the pictures, but he could tell they were hers. He, contrary to his mother, father, and sister, knew nothing about art, nor was he experienced in the practice— but he could still recognize his sister's style from light years away. He bent down in front of one, helmet in the crook of his arm. Most of the drawings were only shoulder height on him, since Sabine had remained pretty short until she'd hit fourteen or fifteen. This one, however, caught his eye because it was obviously him and his family. His mother was wearing her armor, as she had been constantly since he could remember, and held him on her hip. His father stood next to her and slightly behind her. He was wearing the artist's smock he remembered him always wearing, and was holding Sabine's hand. She looked to be about ten or eleven in the painting, sporting the choppily cut, bright orange hair she'd begged their mother and father let her have. It was her first time dying her hair, and she didn't stop after that. He himself was wearing what appeared to be lavender pajamas, still chubby cheeked and bright eyed. 

Tristan smirked at the small illustration of himself. Then, he bolted upright and nearly dropped his helmet when the door slid open. 

"Shit, sorry Sabine," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I haven't been in here since you left and I—"

"It's okay," his sister said kindly, setting her crate, full of their father's old art supplies, down on the bed and moved to stand next to Tristan. "I remember painting that. It was the day after the first—"

"First time you dyed your hair, yeah," Tristan finished. "I remember. Monumental, for you." 

Sabine smiled, tucking her white and purple bangs behind her ear. "I always liked oranges. Painting with them is fun. I've been feeling purples more and more though." She shrugged, moving back to her crate, and took the smock from the top. She buttoned it over her arming doublet, now void of armor, and removed her boots to avoid getting stray paint drops on them. Not that it mattered, the beskar and leather were covered in splatters anyway. 

"What are you painting now?" Tristan asked, watching Sabine dig through the crate for paint-jet refills. She put the tubes in her smock pockets and loaded the other with paint bottles and brushes. 

"The crew," she grunted, hefting a fold out tray to a blank spot on the wall. "I'm gonna miss them while I'm here, you know." 

"Yeah, yeah," Tristan said, sitting gingerly on her bed as if it would break at any moment. He tried not to think too harshly of these people, given that they cared for his sister instead of letting her get kidnapped or killed, but he still couldn't shake the feeling as if they'd replaced him and his mother and father. Sabine _could_ argue the contrary, but it felt to him as if they'd taken more room in her heart, or even in her being, than everyone else. 

"They didn't replace you all, you know," she said, as if she'd read his mind. She loaded her paint guns with a dull orange tube. "We're still blood. Even if you didn't take me back, I wouldn't be unable to deny where I'm from." 

Tristan looked back to the portrait and saw his little smiling self looking back at him. He wondered how long it had been since he'd been that carefree. 

"Tristan?" Sabine asked after a moment, turning to face him. He looked down at the floor instead, trying to think of something to say. His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. 

"It's—" he started, his voice hitching in the back of his throat. He hated crying, or showing any sort of weakness, but the suddenness of his sister returning, combined with the past few years, was more than he could elaborate on. 

"It's been so hard without you here to help. It's just been me and mom since I was twelve and...I've had to do so much to keep the Empire and the rest of the Clans from destroying us all. And I don't know what they've done to dad because of me, and...I just—" 

He bit his lower lip, feeling his chin start to tremble and trying to will it to stop. He hadn't cried about anything since he was twelve, and he refused to start now. 

"Oh, Tristan," Sabine said, setting down her paint guns and crossing the room to her brother. She stood between his legs and pulled him into her arms, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. Tristan tried to speak, but failed to do anything but sob when he opened his mouth. She gently rocked him, rubbing the back of his head while he cried for a few minutes.

"Tristan, you had to grow up so quickly because of what I did. And I'm sorry for that, I truly am. You've been so brave because of it. You're the most courageous, strongest boy I know, and the best brother I could ask for," she said. "I'm not the greatest sister, I realize that. But, we're siblings, and that means our bond is lifelong. It's different than with mom, and dad, and anyone else. No one can replace you, or take anything away from what you've sacrificed for our family." 

Tristan sniffed, wiping his eyes and sitting back on the bed. "Not even Ezra?" he laughed. 

"Not even Ezra, no." Sabine laughed with him. Tristan wiped his eyes again, praying to whatever god was listening that the thick fabric of his gloves soaked up his tears.

Sabine returned to her spot and started painting the background of her portrait— rolling tannish-orange hills with a light blue sky. Tristan watched as she started painting a tall wall of purple, complete with pointy, cat-like ears on the sides of their head. She adjusted her airbrush and detailed their body shape, large shoulders and arms, thick torso, long legs, and strange feet. She painted broad stripes and added round, bright green eyes, and a large toothy smile that took up most of the being's face. It was cartoon-ish, and even though Tristan had never met this person, it felt right for them. 

"Who's this?" he asked. 

"That's Zeb," Sabine answered, dipping a paintbrush into a black paint and going to work on small details. "He's a Lasat." 

"A what?" 

"Lasat hail from Lasan, but pretty much all of them were killed in a fight with the Empire. Zeb's one of the only ones left of his people." Sabine stuck the tip of her brush in her mouth as she opened another jar of paint, bright yellow this time. "Don't tell him I said this if you ever meet him, but, he's a softie. He tries to be all grumpy all the time, but he's actually a pretty nice guy." 

She finished with her details and moved onto the next figure, shorter this time but not too short. Tristan assumed this must be Kanan. The blind Jedi stood next to Zeb with a small smile on his face, arm extended as if he were holding something at waist height next to him. Sabine made sure to detail his beard and ponytail, and the Jaig eyes that adorned his mask. 

"You gave him Jaig eyes. I noticed that when he was here." 

"Yes," Sabine agreed. "He deserved them. He lost his sight in a battle with Maul, you know," she said. Tristan raised his eyebrows. 

"Maul? Like, _the_ Maul?" he asked. "I didn't even realize he was still alive." 

"Well, Kanan needed a new set of eyes. So I gave him some." She finished detailing Kanan and moved on to the next figure, who was to stand in the offered crook off Kanan's arm. She was short, green, and obviously a Twi'lek wearing flight goggles on her head. She leaned into the crook of Kanan's arm, leading Tristan to believe that these crew mates might have a more intimate relationship. Her bright orange flight pants stood out from the dull orange hills behind her. 

"Is that Hera?" Tristan asked. He remembered hearing Sabine mention a Hera who picked her up with Kanan. 

"Yes, she's the owner of the _Ghost_ , and one of the best pilots I've ever met," she said proudly. "She and Kanan are like...well, for the lack of a better term, our parents. Even Zeb's," she added. 

Tristan chuckled. "He listens to her?" 

"Uh, _yeah_ ," Sabine said. "She's the boss. Everyone listens to the Captain." 

Tristan remained silent as Sabine outlined herself and Chopper, the droid standing at Hera's feet and herself in front of Kanan and Hera. She looked just as she did now, white and purple hair, colorful armor, helmet in the crook of her arm. She was smiling, though not as big as Zeb, and seemed to be looking at the Lasat as if they were plotting something. Finally, she laid down the base for what he assumed was supposed to be Bridger. The young Jedi stood with one hand on his hip and the other in the air, as if he were waving to the viewer, with the largest shit-eating grin on his face Sabine could illustrate. Tristan snorted at this, rolling his eyes.

"Is he always so..." he paused for a moment, looking at the boy's wide blue eyes. 

"Annoying?" Sabine asked. 

"Well, yes. But that wasn't what I was going to ask." Tristan cocked his head, staring at the unfinished portrait and trying to come up with a word that could describe how he thought of him. He almost didn't notice when his sister turned around and looked back at him questioningly. 

"Strange," he said, deciding there wasn't a better word. Sabine eyed him for a moment, then returned to her painting, filling in Bridger's green gloves.

"He's not normally that skittish, if that's what you're asking. I think you and mom scared him. I've never seen him act like that before." 

Tristan watched as Sabine traced the outline of that bright orange and yellow suit he wore, lining the ribbed hems of the sleeves. "I got a weird feeling about him when I saw him, is all."

Sabine shrugged. "It's just 'cuz he's a Jedi. They do that to everyone. Besides, you've never met one before _and_ I'm sure mom's told you her stories about Ahsoka, so that doesn't help your opinion on him." She stood, holstering her paint gun and trading it for a brush. "I had a weird feeling about Kanan when I first met him. He wasn't blind at the time, and every time he looked me in the eyes, a shiver went up my spine. Not a bad one though, I could just tell he was different. It's just how Force sensitives are." 

"You believe in all that Force stuff they go on about?" Tristan asked. He didn't really have an opinion on it, but he knew his mother thought it was a load of Bantha fodder. In her stories of her Death Watch conquests, she'd include her encounters with Jedi of the Republic, how they wielded a lightsaber and always talked about this unseen power that gave them their abilities. 

"Of course I do, I've seen it first hand," Sabine said, carefully painting the lightsaber that hung on Ezra's belt. "You ever seen an entire squad of stormtroopers get completely obliterated in five seconds? Or a large hangar door open with the flick of a wrist? Or an entire AT-ST stop in its tracks and get thrown off a platform?" 

Tristan shook his head. "I suppose I haven't." 

"That's just _some_ of the things I've seen in the past month, not to mention the years I've spent with these two." Sabine grunted, picking up the tray and standing aside, admiring her finished work. She nodded in Paint-Ezra's direction. "He's a little goofy, but I think he could win a Toydarian over if he tried, so he won't have any trouble with _you_. Give him a chance." 

Tristan snorted. "Maybe I don't want to be won over." 

"Now you're just being stubborn," Sabine laughed.

Suddenly, both siblings' comlinks beeped for their attention. With one look, Sabine removed her smock and pulled on her boots. 

Tristan pressed a button on his gauntlet. "Yes, mother?" he said, standing up from his sister's bed. 

"I need you two in the briefing room with me." His mother's sharp tone practically echoed off the walls of the bedroom. "Quickly, please."

The connection cut off there, leaving the siblings in complete silence. Sabine looked out the window curiously while she reattached her armor plating. "Wonder what's got her in a hurry. She makes it sound like we're under attack."

"She's been like that," Tristan said, putting his helmet on. He and Sabine jogged across the stronghold to the briefing room, where their mother and a few warriors were waiting.

"Good, you're here," Ursa said, leaning over the holotable. "Sabine, your friends contacted me. They're in a nearby system and looking for assistance." 

Sabine perked up at the mention of the crew. "For what? What are they doing?" she asked.

"Jarrus informed me that he, Bridger, and a Lasat he called Zeb were in the process of inspecting an old Clone Era shipyard on a nearby moon and found that it was already occupied by the Empire. He requested air support and _you_ for backup." 

"So, what's the problem?" Sabine asked. She eyed their mother wearily. "Your tone makes it sound like there's another issue." 

Ursa pulled up a map of Krownest on the holotable, looking solemn. "A scout reported Imperial forces landed here about ten minutes ago," she said, pointing to a spot on the planet that was now indicated with a red marker. "As you know, Sundari's been uncharacteristically silent since a week ago. We think the Empire is planning to invade the stronghold in a few hours to recapture the planet, and most likely destroy Clan Wren, so I can't exactly sacrifice my ships for the time being. We're on alert." 

"The surrounding villages have been asked to remain inside in case of any potential attacks," a warrior chimed in. "The Countess dispatched a few of us to access the bomb shelters and protect the villagers should a threat come."

Sabine chewed on her lip, eyeing the glowing red marker pensively. "How many are there?" she asked. 

"The scout managed to identify a large walker, five TIEs, and at least a full battalion of stormtroopers." 

Sabine pondered this for a moment. "Well, then, just let _me_ leave," she said. "No ships, just me and some explosives." 

Ursa scoffed, crossing her arms. "You, _daughter_ , are not going anywhere. I cannot sacrifice a single warrior right now." 

"They need my help!"

"What part of ' _we're on lockdown_ " do you not understand?" Ursa asked. 

"Just—listen to my plan, please," Sabine pleaded. "For once. I actually have more experience with this than you think." 

Ursa remained silent, frowning at her daughter, then sighed and waved a hand. "Fine, tell me your idea." 

"Fine." Sabine stepped forward, and zoomed in on the sector of the planet occupied by the Empire. "I can leave, assist Kanan and Ezra on their mission, and then in return, I bring back them and the _Phantom_ for extra firepower. Instead of letting the Empire attack first and playing defense, I can get back soon enough to coordinate a two sided attack on the Imperial forces. With our firepower combined with a Lasat and two Jedi, they don't have a chance." She looked around the room. "Nobody owes anyone anything, and we deal with the Empire effectively." 

"What makes you think you can get back before _they_ attack?" Ursa asked. 

"They need a while to gather their forces beforehand, that's always how it works with them. It's a quick jump to that moon, and a quick jump back. With my help, the crew can easily take this shipyard and contact the Rebellion to come collect whatever they're looking for. It'll be fast. They know this, that's why they asked for me specifically."

Ursa gazed at her daughter for a long moment, considering this option. Tristan had been with her long enough to see the gears turning in her head as she weighed the risks of Sabine's operation. He had to give it to Sabine— had anyone else offered this to the Countess, she would have staunchly disagreed almost immediately. It was obvious to him that she was actually acknowledging the fact that her daughter may have a little more experience in fighting the Empire head-on than she did at the moment.

"All right," she conceded. Behind her, some of the warriors' helmeted heads bobbed in shock. "You may take one of the Gauntlets and leave. I will send you the coordinates Jarrus gave me and inform him that you will be joining his fight." She held up a hand, pausing Sabine from leaving immediately. "Just— be quick. Please. And take your brother with you." 

Sabine nodded and put on her helmet. "I'll prep the ship and make sure everything's working. I'll call Tristan down when it's ready," she said, bounding out the door and towards the hangar on the lowest floor of the stronghold. Tristan looked back to his mother, unable to read the expression on her face. 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, partially concerned and partially annoyed by the fact that he was going on a mission for the Rebellion instead of staying home. The last thing he wanted to do was their dirty work when his own home was under attack. Ursa's brow furrowed. 

"I have to be sure of her, don't I? Besides, we need to show her that we trust her again." Ursa turned to the warriors behind her. "You three need to begin a patrol cycle. No one rests until Sabine returns with help. Keep in contact with the scouts and inform me of any Imperial movement." 

The warriors nodded and exited the briefing room, leaving Tristan and his mother in complete silence. Ursa leaned against the holotable again, glaring at the bright red dot on the map as if she could shoot lasers at the location with her eyes. 

"You're worried," Tristan said after a beat, removing his helmet.

"Son, I'm always worried," she scoffed. She opened a line of communication. "This is Krownest, requesting communication with the _Phantom_ ," 

A holo of a large purple Lasat appeared. He seemed to be sitting in the hull of a ship. " _Phantom_ here. I'm Zeb. What's the issue, Countess?" His voice was low, gruff, and uniquely accented. His round, green eyes peered around the briefing room and made contact with Tristan. He gave him a small smile, as if he'd recognized him as an old friend, before looking back to the Countess. 

"Please alert Kanan that I have allowed Sabine and my son Tristan to meet you off-world to assist you in your mission for the Rebellion. They are coming alone, as I cannot provide air support at this time," Ursa said. 

Zeb's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Sabine. "A mighty thanks to you, m'lady. They're greatly needed on this one. Missions have been rough without our munitions expert. Is there anything else?" 

"I require this mission to be carried out quickly, as I need your ship _and_ assistance in return for my children's help. Sabine will fill you in on the details," she said. 

"All right then. I'll let Kanan know immediately." He and the Countess nodded to each other, and the hologram fizzled out.

Ursa pushed a sigh through her nose. "If you're both not back in time—"

"We will be. She knows what she's doing, mother." 

"I'm aware of that," she said, moving to stand in front of the window. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. "It's just the Jedi I'm worried about." 

"Sabine seems to trust them. Is that not enough?" Tristan asked. 

"In my experience, they're unpredictable and chronically late to save the day. I'd rather do this without their assistance, but..." Ursa crossed her arms, shaking her head. "Sabine had a point about needing backup. I'd rather not lose so many men and women just to take down a walker."

Tristan remained quiet after this, joining his mother at the window. They watched as warriors prepped outside, fine white snowflakes gathering on their cloaks. He could tell she was worried about a plethora of other things, the foremost being his father, but decided not to say anything about it. In his years, he found it was best to let his mother sort everything out internally than ask her to speak on it. Things usually went better for everyone that way. His father had always been better at the emotional side of things, and could coax almost any stubborn fear out of his wife. Tristan hadn't inherited that trait; in fact, it seemed that Sabine actually had. He and his mother were too alike, far more than they'd both want to admit.

Ursa spared Tristan a glance as his comlink chirped, alerting him that the ship was prepped and ready to go. He nodded to her, putting his helmet on and leaving her by the window. 

"Tristan?" she called out. 

"Yes, mother?" Tristan asked. Ursa turned to her son, a faint smile on her face. 

"Be careful."

* * *

Tristan gripped the edge of his armrests as the Gauntlet took off, soaring upwards into the atmosphere. Sabine had, in an extra effort to disguise them from Imperial suspicion, changed the ship's signature to resemble that of a local, commercially operated shuttle. Now it was just left to pray that the Empire wasn't paying too close attention to Krownest's air traffic. 

"Everything's holding up, they haven't tried to make contact yet," she said, monitoring the interface on the control panel. Tristan noticed her glimpse in his direction and tried to loosen his death grip on his chair. The hull creaked lightly as the frosty wind whipped around them. Thankfully, Sabine seemed experienced in flying in such conditions.

"You good, little brother?" she asked. 

"I'm fine." Tristan swallowed, swearing he could feel sweat running from his helmet down into his arming doublet. "I've never left the planet before, and I didn't think I'd run the risk of getting shot down my first time around." 

He heard his sister chuckle lightly. "You were a Super Commando. Saxon didn't let you off world?" 

The grey-blue sky above them widened as they passed through the first layer of storm clouds. 

"No. With the war, it wasn't safe for me to stay on any neighboring planet. Our squad remained on Krownest so the other Clans didn't come for us." Tristan blew a sigh out of his nose, trying to focus on the expanding swaths of stars expanding in front of him. "Or me, specifically. I was too valuable, with dad in the capital." 

"How young were you?" Sabine asked, voice growing soft. "When you joined them?" 

"Fourteen. I had gotten tall enough by then to hold up in a fight. I was the youngest in the squad."

Sabine sighed, jabbing at a few buttons on the control panel. "For kriff's sake!" she exclaimed, looking as if she wanted to punch the control panel.

"You having trouble?" Tristan asked, panicked.

Sabine shook her head, turning to face Tristan. "That's not important right now. You were _fourteen_?" 

"Hells, Sabine! It _is_ important right now! I don't want to get _shot out of the sky!_ " 

"Don't avoid the question, we're talking about this!" 

Tristan groaned, feeling his ears pop as they exited the atmosphere. "Not right now. _Please_?" 

Sabine eyed him wearily, then opened the navicomputer. "You're not gonna avoid this discussion much longer. As soon as we get back..." her sentence turned to mumbling as she punched in the coordinates Zeb had given their mother. Tristan decided not to ask, and instead focused on the black void of space he saw in front of him. It was a stunning sight that he didn't expect himself to see so soon. It was then that he realized that now that he wasn't grounded to Krownest anymore, he'd probably be seeing this much more often.

Sabine pulled a lever on the control panel, and the white stars turned to streaks as the ship blew past them towards their destination. The blue, swirling colors of hyperspace travel were enough to make Tristan a little nauseous. 

"Ten minutes 'till we arrive," Sabine said, looking up from the navicomputer. She glanced in Tristan's direction again, then kicked her feet up onto the control panel. 

They remained silent for a minute or two, Tristan finally relaxing in his seat and folding his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do with them. 

"They didn't make me do much. At first," Tristan started. He paused, regretting having opened his mouth. Sabine's head perked up at his sudden comment. 

"That's only because there wasn't much to do. But as Saxon's reign as governor continued, more and more rebellious Clan members fell to him." Tristan rubbed his gloved palms, as if he could still feel the weight of his Imperial blaster in them. "Occasionally, he'd bring in firing squads and make us watch public executions of Mandalorians. They were supposed to be examples of what would happen to us, and the Clan, should we step out of line. Then, he had us fight each other. Told us it would make us more experienced in fighting rebel Clan members, once we could travel off-world."

Tristan paused, dipping his head. Sabine watched, but not too intently as to make it awkward for them. 

"I got pretty good. Even though I was the youngest, I was one of the best with weapons and in hand-to-hand combat. I _had_ to be good, and I had to be stronger than them, because they could have severely hurt me if I wasn't. When we weren't doing that, we were to patrol the villages and enforce curfew. We were under strict orders to report anyone who didn't comply with Imperial laws." He looked to Sabine, whose face read sympathetic. 

"The same thing happened on Lothal, mostly because of us," Sabine said. "We were hitting them too hard, and they enforced a curfew and increased patrols. It's practically impossible to get onto the planet now, or leave." She started picking at the dried mud on the soles of her boots. 

"I couldn't bring myself to do it, at first, because I knew that they would end up imprisoned or fined or forced into slavery, or even killed, depending on the offense," Tristan continued. "But, it was them or father, and I had to choose. I had to betray my own people for _them_ , Sabine. The rest of my squadron couldn't care less. They joined Saxon willingly."

Sabine didn't respond at first, still concentrating on the muddy soles of her boots. Her brows were furrowed in concern as she mulled this revelation over. 

"Don't say you're sorry."

"I wasn't going to," she sighed, letting her heavy boots hit the floor with a thud. The navicomputer started beeping loudly as they neared their destination. 

A small, orangish-brown moon came into sight, nearly a fourth of the size of Krownest and looking rockier than any other planet he'd seen holopictures of. Upon the approach he noticed mountainous cliffs and deep crevices, almost like canyons, lining the surface. It was noticeably sparse of any plant life, aside from what he assumed were twisted, gnarled brown trees that occasionally grew in bunches where it wasn't too rocky. 

"Weird place to have a shipyard," he said, fingers twitching around his armrests as they entered the atmosphere again. Sabine nodded towards the viewport. 

"It's down in one of the canyons," she said. "Hidden from sight if you're just passing by the planet." 

"Smart."

Sabine piloted the Gauntlet just above the plateaued peaks of the planet, careful not to get too high should they set off any alarms. Tristan felt sick as she weaved between rocky spires and crevices, wondering how long it took her to become so skilled at flying.

"Hera taught me how to fly like this," she said fondly, as if she'd read his mind yet again. "She'd make this planet look like the Academy's obstacle course." 

The Gauntlet set down on the surface of one of the plateaus. Looking out the viewport, he could see the Lasat, Zeb, and the two Jedi standing next to a small shuttle. Zeb's ears perked up when he saw the ship, and looked like he wanted to come running. Sabine stood from her pilot's chair, helmet in the crook of her arm. 

"Let's go," she said, heading out the door. Tristan put his helmet on and followed his sister down the access ramp, just in time to see a blur of purple stripes flash towards her. The large Lasat tackled her in a hug, with gigantic biceps that were nearly as big as Tristan's head. 

"Sabine!" he cried. "You've been gone too long." He pulled away from her and nodded to the Jedi. "I've had to deal with Ezra and Chopper without you." 

Tristan snorted at this, accidentally gaining him unwanted attention from Zeb. He was met with bright green eyes and a giant smile. Zeb reached forward, clapping him on the back with a large, four-fingered hand that could easily engulf his entire face. 

"And you're the little brother. Tristan, isn't it?" he asked. 

"Yes, sir," he said, holding out a hand for a handshake. Zeb gripped it and pulled him into a one armed hug. Tristan could swear he heard his beskar creak under the pressure. He was now the size of a fully grown man, and had yet to find someone so much taller and stronger than he was. 

"None of that," the Lasat said, letting him go. "I'm Zeb, and nothin' else to yah. Sabine's brother is a brother of mine."

Tristan, not really sure how to respond to this statement, waited to catch his breath and nodded. "Yes...yes. All right," he said, nearly adding another "sir" to the end of his sentence. Sabine chuckled and greeted Kanan and Ezra with a smile. The boy looked ecstatic to see Sabine again, former awkwardness abandoned. 

"We're glad you're both here. We really need your help," Kanan said, gesturing down the plateau a ways. "You brought explosives, I hope?"

Sabine patted the bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Right here. You know I don't go anywhere without them." 

Kanan chuckled dryly. "Looks like we need to make that a habit, now that our walking armory isn't with us anymore."

"What's up?"

"The shipyard's down the way inside the canyon," Kanan said. "Zeb said he's got a few ideas, but we need your help." 

"We can't stay long," Tristan said. He waved a hand back towards the Gauntlet. "Our mother requires your assistance at home in return for our help, as soon as possible."

He noticed one of Ezra's eyebrows twitch upwards questioningly. 

"Of course," Kanan agreed, "we can help with whatever you need." 

Sabine turned to her brother. "Maybe go grab a rifle, if there's one in the Gauntlet. You're good with those, right? I'm probably gonna need someone to keep an eye out for us."

She, Zeb, and Kanan moved to look at the map Chopper was projecting, leaving him to go back to the Gauntlet. To his dismay, Ezra followed him inside, watching silently as he opened the gun rack and pulled out a rifle. The Jedi's eyes grew wide at the sight of it. 

"Is there something you wanted?" Tristan asked, eying Ezra suspiciously as he made sure the rifle was loaded properly. Ezra shook his head, crossing his arms against his chest. 

"I was just going to come with you to help you carry stuff," he said. "But I guess you've got it."

Tristan hummed, clipping extra charges to his belt. He made sure his pistols were loaded as well. 

"Never seen a sniper rifle before?" he asked. 

"Nah. Can I hold it?" Ezra asked, reaching his hands out. Tristan considered it for a moment, remembering seeing him handle a blaster before, and decided that it was probably okay to hand the boy a loaded weapon. 

"As long as you won't shoot me in the face, sure," he said, setting the rifle in Ezra's hands. He aimed it down the ramp, gazing down the sights at the rocky ground outside. He had a look of pure joy on his face as he twisted it around in his hands, careful to keep his finger off the trigger. 

Tristan stuck out his hand, asking for the gun back, and Ezra obliged. The two left the ship, Tristan with the rifle slung over his back. They wordlessly rejoined the others, who were looking at a holomap of the area projected by Chopper. Sabine explained the plan to the two boys. Tristan and Ezra were to wait above the canyon as lookouts, while Sabine, Kanan, and Zeb set detonators on the TIEs down below. The three would then be able to make their way into the shipyard with Chopper's help, and hopefully be able to clear out the building themselves. 

"Aww, but I wanna go in!" Ezra complained, after Sabine had finished talking. Tristan had to agree with him, but only because he'd prefer to do lookout by himself rather than be stuck with Ezra. 

"You two are our backup for a reason. I trust that you two will be able to watch out for each other," Sabine suggested.

"Why are you all wanting to get inside, anyway?" Tristan asked, gesturing to the projected junk piles. "All this stuff has got to be old."

"All of the stuff outside has been corroded by the wind and the dirt, yes," Kanan agreed, "It's the stuff inside the warehouse that we want. We're hoping there will be ship parts we can use on our fighters to repair them. It's hard to find replacement ships when the Empire is tracking your every move." 

"I'll give Chop another quick paint job. I can't really do anything fancy, but hopefully we can use him to open the doors without much suspicion," Sabine said. Chopper promptly shut off the holomap and grumbled at the sight of Sabine's paint guns, metal appendages lowering in defeat. 

"You two go ahead and head out to the point Sabine showed you, and have a look around. We'll be after you in a minute or two," Kanan said, pointing down the canyon. "Ezra knows the way."

Tristan nodded to the elder Jedi, turning to follow Ezra as he walked along the edge of the canyon. He could hear Chopper warbling grumpily behind them, complaining about his new black paint job. Ezra kicked at a few rocks as they walked, knocking the small pebbles ahead of him with every step. 

"How's it been with Sabine back home?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. 

"Well, the Empire's being extra horrible now, so not great," Tristan answered, slinging the rifle over his shoulder so he could navigate over some boulders blocking off the rim of the canyon they were now traversing. He followed Ezra into the rocky path, feeling pebbles and the slick, sandy surface of the stone slide under his boots. He braced himself on a taller boulder, trying not to slip and fall down the canyon. Ezra, who was a few steps ahead, navigated the rocks with ease, not even needing to hold onto anything with his hands. 

"I get that. I mean, my home world has been entirely taken over now," he said, hopping down from the rocks with ease to the other side of the ledge. Tristan sat on his rear end and slid down carefully, trying not to slide off and miss the ledge completely. 

"Where are you from?" 

"Lothal," Ezra said. Tristan remembered Sabine mentioning it before. He noticed Ezra had slowed his pace to match his own. 

"It's been occupied by the Empire since the Clone War ended. You might like it there. It's definitely warmer."

"I don't mind the cold," Tristan said defensively. "I've been on Krownest for my entire life." 

Ezra grinned, putting his hands up defensively. "Okay, then. Sorry."

Ezra quickened his pace again, picking up three larger stones, each about the size of a fist. He held his hands out and the stones began rotating slowly in the air, making a circular shape. Tristan watched as he floated them around, picking up a leg as he walked and passing them underneath, winding them around in the air. This Ezra was much different than the one he'd seen on Krownest, and this Ezra was even more perplexing. Tristan still had the same strange feeling that he had before, that for sure hadn't gone away. It was the change in the boy's demeanor that was baffling. He and his friends were about to walk into a warehouse full of stormtroopers where anything could happen, and here he was juggling rocks, whereas a week ago he seemed terrified to be in the presence of anyone but Sabine and Kanan. 

Tristan remembered what Sabine had said about him, how he had the ability to pull anyone in. It irritated him to admit it, but he felt he had to agree, at least somewhat. The sight of the Jedi bouncing along the path joyfully with his rocks was amusing, at the most. He was so distracted that he nearly ran into Ezra's back when the boy stopped abruptly in front of him. The rocks dropped to the ground, clattering at his feet. He remained completely still, looking up to the cliff side above them with wide eyes. 

"What is it?" Tristan asked, reaching for his blasters. Ezra's eyebrows quirked as his eyes darted around, then his face dropped into a squint as he peered around them. He swiveled on one foot, peering across the canyon to the other side as if he expected to see someone there, watching them from afar. 

"Bridger?" he asked again. Ezra turned to look at him, then shook his head. 

"I just got a really weird feeling. Like we're being watched by something." 

"Not a someone?" 

"No. Definitely a something." Ezra looked around again, then slowly began to walk back down the path. 

"Do you think it's an animal? Stalking us?" Tristan asked, hands still on his blasters. He followed Ezra as the Jedi began walking faster, his hand closer to his lightsaber. 

"Might be," he said, pulling up a small holomap. "The base is up here, we'll be at the spot in a few minutes." 

"So are we just going to let this thing come to us first?" Tristan asked, annoyed. Ezra shrugged. 

"I guess we have no choice. I'll contact Kanan and let him know to look out."

The two arrived at their designated location a few minutes later. Tristan crouched near the edge of the canyon, Ezra following suit. Stormtroopers were milling around in the landing area, some were located in the watchtowers, and some outside the entrance to the warehouse. It was built into the side of the canyon wall, hulking in size with its black durasteel walls melding into the orange canyon rocks. Large blast doors remained shut, with many smaller ones lining the outside. Piles of old, reddish brown, rusted out ships laid around the landing area, stretching out into the canyon. They were near as high as his home back on Krownest, crushed and falling apart as the dirt and wind whipped around them. 

"What do you think?" Ezra asked. Tristan lowered himself to his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, and raised his rifle, looking around the area. The few stormtroopers patrolling the area didn't seem to be paying much attention to what was going on. Knowing his sister and the Jedi, they'd have an easy time making their way around the landing area without being caught. 

"Sabine and the others can handle this easily. I think they'll be okay," he said. He turned his head to Ezra, who also lowered himself to his stomach right next to him. He remained quiet, as he had been the entire time, head propped up in his hands like he was watching some sort of spectacle below. 

"Kanan said that they're entering from a little further back into the canyon," he said. "They found a path that'll lead them down through the junkyard." 

"What did he say about the _thing_?" Tristan asked, looking back down the scope. 

"Just to watch out, as usual. He agreed that it was probably some large animal." 

"Aren't you a little worried?" Tristan asked, confused by how calm the boy was about the whole thing, especially since he'd previously looked as if he'd seen a dead person walking with his own eyes. 

"Nah," he stated simply. The two remained quiet for a while, listening as the dry breeze whipped by and rustled dry branches up ahead. Tristan waited for his comm to beep and alert him that Sabine and the others had been attacked by that thing, or had been ambushed by stormtroopers, but no such call came. Eventually, Ezra rolled over onto his back, folding his arms under his head and shutting his eyes. It wasn't long before his breathing leveled into soft snores, signifying that he'd fallen asleep in the warm sunlight.

Tristan leaned on one elbow and peered over the boy, making sure that he was, in fact, asleep, before rolling his eyes and elbowing him. 

"Oww!" Ezra grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his palms. He blinked the sunlight away, then: "I was meditating. What did you do that for?" 

"Bullshit. You fell asleep," Tristan countered, jumping when his comlink blinked, requesting his attention. 

"Tristan here," he answered, returning Ezra's glare. The smaller boy's nose crinkled in dislike while he dusted the orangish-brown dirt off his pants. 

Sabine's voice came from the other side of the comm, crackling: "We're waiting on the east side of the platform behind one of the scrap piles. Can you see us?" 

Tristan took a look through the scope, spotting Sabine, Kanan, and Zeb hunched over behind what looked like a crushed front half of an X-34 landspeeder. 

"Spotted," he confirmed. "You can start setting charges on the TIEs closest to the edge of the canyon. The troopers should make another round though there in a minute or two, so stay hidden." 

Ezra pulled out a set of collapsible macrobinoculars and held them to his face, obviously feeling left out. Together, the two successfully guided the three through the shipyard without being seen. The landing pads gave them an advantage, as they were raised to about waist height on Zeb and provided enough cover should they need to duck down. Chopper, who had entered from an even less conspicuous spot, had wheeled his way to the large doors and appeared to be trying to open them without raising any alarms. After what Tristan assumed was a lot of warbled curses, he managed to snatch a disc of some sort from one of the stormtrooper's belts. On cue, the crew blew up the fighters and Chopper opened the door, driving the troopers standing on the inside to come charging out to see the commotion. This, unfortunately for them, led them directly to Sabine, Kanan, and Zeb, who masterfully plowed through the squad of troopers and made their way inside. Kanan, despite being blind, deflected blaster fire with ease while Zeb and Sabine returned it from behind, each of their shots landing square in the helmet. 

Tristan remembered his position and turned his safety off, aiming for the troopers in the watchtowers. After a brief calculation, he fired, the bolt hitting the trooper in the shoulder and knocking him over the railing. He managed to take care of the rest quickly, glad that his good marksmanship from all his training was finally beginning to matter for something other than target practice. 

"Nice shot," Sabine called from below. "It looks pretty sparse inside, so you two go ahead and bring the Phantom and the Gauntlet on down. We can handle the rest." 

"Copy that." Tristan stood from his spot, sliding the rifle back over his shoulder. Ezra was watching him with that wide-eyed look again, the one he had a week ago. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked. "Is that thing back?"

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Ezra asked. "You're, like, really good." 

Tristan sighed, trying to ignore the rising flush in his face and started back down the canyon. He would _not_ let Ezra get to him, no matter how hard he tried. It didn't matter that his helmet was still on, he refused to blush because of the boy's compliment. Even though Sabine asked differently of him, he had a hard time seeing the Jedi as anything but an annoyance. Ezra was immature, and Tristan had more pressing things to worry about rather than this boy, who insisted on following him with those wide blue eyes like a little korrina pup. 

"I suppose it was my Imperial training," he suggested, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Ezra went quiet after that, falling back a little and walking on his own. He remained quiet for the majority of the walk, picking some stones back up again and playing with them.

Tristan had just begun to climb back over the precarious rock pile blocking their way when Ezra let out a yelp behind him. A large shadow swept overhead, and the boy hit the ground to avoid grappling talons. Tristan ducked as well, pulling his blasters from their holsters and aiming them at the large beast that had leapt from above. It was a large, reptilian creature with a long, stocky body, legs ending with jagged claws. Its tail was nearly half the length of its body, with thin spines running flat down its back. The neck was short, and had a long, smooth head with similar spines running down the top. 

Ezra bolted back to his feet, swinging an arm between Tristan and the creature, which hissed defiantly, scratching at the rocks and swiping its tail. 

"Get out of the way, Bridger! You're blocking my shot!"

"Wait, don't kill it," Ezra said, pushing Tristan's hands back. "Don't shoot." 

Tristan stared at him, incredulous. "Don't kill it? I—That _thing_ tried to kill _you_!" he stuttered, knocking Ezra's hands aside. The creature seemed to dislike this and gave a guttural screeching noise, like knives on metal. It shook its head, bounding forward with jaws wide open. Tristan nearly pulled the trigger when Ezra stuck a hand out, stopping the animal in its tracks. The Jedi was focused, eyes closed, as he reached out towards the creature. Its small, green eyes rolled as it struggled against Ezra's will, head shaking back and forth like it was trying to shake a voice out from inside. Angered huffs came from flared nostrils, and claws scratched at the stony ground.

"What are you doing to it?" Tristan asked, watching the creature's long tail whip back and forth. Ezra wagged his finger, backing up and lowering Tristan's hands again. Tristan took the cue and reluctantly holstered his blasters. Ezra opened his eyes and took hold of his elbow, free hand still outstretched. 

"It’s calming down. Move slowly," he commanded, the fingertips on his arm gripping him tightly. Tristan watched, incredulous as the beast's tail stopped swishing back and forth, and tried to ignore the fact that the skin on his arm underneath Ezra's fingers was tingling. That had to be something with the Force, or at least it was what he wanted to convince himself of. It wasn't just him, right?

Ezra pushed him in a wide circle around the creature, their backs pressed up against the canyon wall as they neared it. Its head whipped around to look at them while they passed, clearly angry to be so close to them without being able to do anything. Its hot breath fogged up Tristan's visor as it sniffed at them, turning with them. Once they were on the other side of it, Ezra started pushing him back down the path, facing towards the creature. 

"I'm going to give us a head start, but once I let it go, we're going to have to run. Fast," he said. 

"W-what?"

"You get to the Gauntlet, I'll take the _Phantom_. In three, two...now!"

Ezra lowered his arm and turned, running back down the canyon path as fast as he could. Tristan followed suit, wishing his armor wasn't so heavy as he followed after the shorter boy. The creature let out another scream and followed suit, skittering along the rocky outcropping with a hiss. 

"I think you pissed it off!"

"No shit!"

"Can't you slow it down?" Tristan huffed, nearly losing his footing. 

"I'm not that good yet! Just get to the Gauntlet!" 

The boys scrambled over the cliff face, Tristan running for the Gauntlet as fast as he could. As soon as he made it to the ramp he heard Ezra scream. The beast had cut him off to the entrance to the _Phantom_ , driving the boy to run for the Gauntlet. 

"Close the door!" he yelled. 

"You're not going to make it!" 

"Just do it, for kriff's sake!"

Tristan watched as a split second passed by, the beast gaining on Ezra with its jaws open wide, and punched the button on the ramp. He laid on his stomach and stuck his arm out of the closing entrance, and Ezra jumped higher than what Tristan thought was humanly possible to catch it. He pulled him inside, the younger boy scrambling to pull his toes in before the ramp closed on them completely. The creature screamed angrily outside, its claws screeching down the durasteel hull as it tried to rip its way in. 

The boys entered the cockpit, Tristan barely in his seat as they took off, leaving the beast to howl angrily below them. Ezra let out a shuddering sigh, collapsing in the co-pilot's seat and rubbing his forehead. 

"You should have let me shoot it," Tristan bit out, absolutely seething. Ezra picked up on his attitude and waved a hand in the air. 

"You didn't need to. And I didn't want to kill it. It was only trying to defend its territory." 

"We could have _died_ , Ezra!" 

"But we didn't!" 

Tristan rolled his eyes, invisible to Ezra, and pressed a blinking light on the control panel that signified that someone was trying to hail the ship. A holo of Ursa appeared, her lips tightly pursed and helmet clenched tightly between her hands. 

“Thank goodness you picked up,” she shouted, only slightly flinching as something exploded nearby. “We were forced to engage the Empire--” she dodged as an armored warrior sprinted by-- “and could greatly use your friends’ assistance.” 

“I’m picking Sabine up now. Can you hold up for twenty minutes?” 

Ursa’s head swiveled at the sound of a shout, wide eyed, and she put her helmet on. “We can try. They’ve taken occupation of Lord Cace’s home, and I believe they’ve taken him, his children, and the Lady captive to ensure that we don’t just blow the place up. All we can do for now is keep them from progressing towards the stronghold.” Ursa ducked with an annoyed grunt as something large whistled by her head. “I’ll see you soon.” 

And with that, the holo fizzled out. 

“That’s what you need us for?” Ezra asked. “A rescue mission?” 

“It’s not a rescue mission. At least, it wasn’t supposed to be,” Tristan said, carefully landing the Gauntlet between the stacks of garbage where the rest of the crew was waiting. He punched the ramp access button and jogged outside to find his sister giggling at something Zeb had said. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but mom needs us back home. Now,” he said urgently, waving back at the gauntlet. 

“What’s going on?” Sabine asked. “Did they attack already?” 

“They’ve holed up in Lord Cace’s home, and took him and his family captive, according to Mother. They can’t get inside, and they can’t fire on the mansion as long as they’re inside.” 

“Using a noble family as a shield isn’t super surprising,” Sabine mused, bringing up a small holomap of the Cace estate and considering it for a moment. Her eyes widened as if she’d realized something. “But…it’s actually very convenient for us that they’d choose the Caces’ home.”

“Care to explain?”

“I will when we arrive. But we need to get back to the _Phantom_ ,” Sabine said, putting her helmet on, “and fast.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A korrina is a wolf-like creature from Endor, featured in an old Ewok cartoon. I made up the moon they travel to in this chapter, and the Cace family is also made up. I'm really not sure how many people live on Krownest or how deep ranks of nobility go in Mandalorian culture, but Lord and Lady Cace are the baron/baroness of their region. Ursa can't possibly have to be in charge of ALL of the inhabitants of Krownest, right? If I get any of that nobility terminology wrong in the next chapter, go easy on me. All I have is Wikipedia and two braincells to rub together.  
> ~ Also ~  
> Ezra being a better empath than most Jedi is like, a half-headcanon of mine. I only say half because of how good he is with animals in canon. I just think that he would be a little better at reading emotions than most, and maybe explains why he himself can be so emotional? It's just the allure of Ezra :)


	3. You Come Around and the Armor Falls (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this came out a lot faster than I thought it was going to (I may have stayed up until 4 AM to finish it, but that's irrelevant). But, here's part 2! It's a lot shorter than I thought it was when I posted part 1. No warnings for this chapter other than a general violence warning.

* * *

“Kanan and Zeb will take the Phantom to destroy the walker,” Sabine’s metal tinged voice came from Tristan’s comm. “Assuming they can handle that alone?”

“D’aw, Sabine, you know me better than that,” Kanan teased, his voice crackling with static.

“Good, I’m taking Tristan and Ezra around the back and dropping them off. You boys ready?” 

Tristan, who was standing at the mouth of the ramp, looked to Ezra, who nodded. “We’re ready,” he confirmed, opening the ramp doors. Krownest’s cold wind came whipping inside as the Gauntlet dipped down through the sky, avoiding fighter fire as Sabine dove towards the Cace estate. The large, concrete and metal building stood stark against a cliff face, the back end hanging over the side. It was three stories tall, bleak, but sturdy against the chilling winds. A flight deck jutted out from the cliff side, as the majority of the house was underground as well. Large durasteel and concrete walls surrounded the estate, its previously tall grey windows stained with dirt and soot. The courtyard was marred with blaster fire, ornately trimmed hedges burnt and severed, tall trees with limbs split. Tristan looked behind him to see Ezra unbothered by the chill, and also unequipped with a jetpack. 

“You...uh. You gonna make it to the pavement alive without a little help?” He asked. Ezra shot him another coy grin, eyebrows perked as he nodded to the estate growing in the distance. 

“I’ll make it just fine. But thanks for your concern,” he laughed, moving to the other end of the ramp and clinging to a hydraulic lift. He peered outside with that same grin, short-cut hair shuttering in the wind as he watched their destination grow closer. Tristan noticed that the grey sky made those blue eyes of his more of an azure than a sapphire. He thought fondly back to the lake back home, its icy depths usually akin to the shade in the warmer months. It was never swimming temperature, but it was always fun to watch the small fish that dwelled inside as they darted to the surface for one of the few times of the year. 

“You good?” 

Tristan blinked, earlier annoyance for the lizard incident now only a minor thought. “What?” 

Ezra was looking at him now, his grin now a soft smile. A smile that was directed at him, and made him feel strange. Not from Ezra’s off-putting aura, but from the faint twinge in his stomach. 

“You were looking at me, and I can tell that you’re thinking about something. You think really loudly.” 

_ Thinking loudly? What was that supposed to mean?  _

“I’m fine,” he said, shifting his weight in boots he now found inexplicably uncomfortable. He looked outside again. “You know, you better make it to the pavement alive. Sabine’s pretty fond of you.”

“I’ve got my ways.” 

“To jump out of this and land alive or to make Sabine fond of you?” 

“Both.” 

“I’m coming in,” Sabine’s voice interrupted, drawing their attention to their comms. “Jump on my mark in three. Three…” 

Tristan joined Ezra on the edge of the ramp, gripping the lift tightly as the wind and pitch of the ship threatened to toss him off. He and Ezra jumped at Sabine’s command, himself landing on his feet and Ezra catching himself, somehow rolling once and coming into a stance. 

The stormtroopers occupying the open hangar in the cliff face noticed their arrival, and Tristan ducked for cover behind a few crates. Ezra, however, ignited his lightsaber and stood his ground, deflecting blaster shots confidently. 

“Any idea where they’d be hiding the Caces?” Ezra called back. An unlucky stormtrooper’s shot made its way back to his head. 

“Somewhere on the third floor, probably,” Tristan replied, taking out a few of his own assailants and coming out from behind the crates. He and his family had access to most blueprints of the homes of noble families archived, so he quickly located the Cace estate and brought up a small holomap. 

“There’s a hidden room on the third floor, behind the study,” he explained, leading Ezra to the stairs. “Once we get to the first floor, we’re going to have to get to the turbolifts and take them upstairs. The door is probably heavily guarded, though, so we need to be ready for that.” 

“No problem,” Ezra said cheerfully, sending a stormtrooper flying across the hangar with a flick of his wrist and barely a glance in his direction. “I’ve handled much worse.” 

“Much worse?” Tristan asked, curious. He and Ezra started jogging up the stairs leading to the first floor. “Like death troopers?” 

After a breath, Ezra pointed to the two scars that ran across his left cheek. “Inquisitors.” 

Tristan hummed, intrigued, and poked his head out of the stairwell to check the first floor. “What’s an inquisitor? Never heard of those types of stormtroopers.” 

“It’s because they’re not stormtroopers, they’re Jedi hunters. Former masters and padawans of the Order who were turned into Sith assassins. Their main job is hunting down surviving Jedi and killing them. Since me and Kanan are pretty much the only ones left, we don’t get much of a break.” Ezra faltered, his steps behind Tristan slowing a little. “I was fourteen, and barely a padawan. He could have killed me, but I was lucky.” 

Tristan turned to regard him for a moment, stopping in his tracks. His eyebrows were furrowed as if he were remembering an unpleasant situation from long ago. How much  _ had  _ this boy gone through in the past few years? Any normal being would be a nervous wreck with their life being constantly threatened like that, but he treated it as if it were an everyday occurance. For a Jedi, he supposed, the threat of assassination  _ was _ commonplace.

Suddenly, there was a plastic-y shuffle of boots around the corner, and Tristan pushed Ezra between the outcroppings on the wall, placing a gloved hand over his mouth to keep him from calling out. Ezra glared at him from under his fingers, yanking his face away from them.

"What's the deal?"

"Shut up," Tristan whispered, watching as the stormtroopers continued through the hall, not turning into their corridor. He noticed how Ezra was pressed against him, way too closely and very personally, and tried not to think too hard about it. Though Ezra was much smaller, Tristan made the space a tight fit. He was practically hunched over the shorter boy, trying to wedge himself into the space as much as possible. He’d been around this boy all day, but this current position brought that twinging feeling back into his stomach again, combined with the tingling sensation he’d felt when Ezra had grabbed his arm before. 

"Come on, we can handle a couple of troopers," Ezra whined, trying to wiggle his way out of their hiding spot. Tristan locked him in place, barring him in with an arm. 

"It's better that we don't bring ourselves too much attention if we haven’t already," he whispered. He made the mistake of looking down at Ezra, who was returning his gaze with still furrowed brows. It was admittedly hilarious, and almost reminded him of Sabine. 

“Well, they’re gone now, so will you let me out?” Ezra asked, pouting. Tristan obliged, noting that the clatter of stormtrooper boots was now gone. Ezra slid away from him, but the twinging in his stomach didn’t. The shorter boy made a show of dusting himself off and stretching as if they’d been hiding like that for hours. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Tristan asked, leading Ezra to the turbolifts. 

“...Sure?” 

“How’d you learn to do that thing with the lizard? Back on that moon?” 

Ezra’s mood shifted, perking up from being able to talk about his abilities. “Jedi have different skill sets, different ways that they’re connected to the Force. You can be good at many different things at once. Some are good pilots, some are good swordsmen, some can even use their powers to see the past. At least, that’s how Kanan explained it to me. I, however, am talented in empathy.” 

“Empathy?” 

“I can connect with people and animals better than most Jedi. See, Kanan’s a very good swordsman, and he can also connect with animals. But, apparently I’m better at that than anything else. I can read people’s emotions, and I can manipulate the will of wild creatures. Mind tricks are my specialty,” he finished proudly. 

“That...that actually explains a lot.” Tristan stepped into the turbolift and pressed a button. 

“What does it explain?” Ezra asked. The grin he gave seemed to insinuate that he knew something that Tristan didn’t know, and Tristan hated it. 

“Well. Sabine, she told me that you’re...uh, good with people,” Tristan stuttered, looking for something to say. He was watching the turbolift’s doors close instead of looking Ezra in the eyes. “And...I, uh…”

“Oh, I see,” Ezra laughed. “You didn’t believe her? I could tell you didn’t like me, I just didn’t want to say anything.” 

Instead of saying anything, Tristan left it at that, stepping out the door. “Sure. We’ll say that.” He couldn’t exactly explain his current feelings for Ezra, and he didn’t dare mention the wiggling in his stomach that he felt when Ezra said something stupid, or smiled in his general direction. Admittedly funny, yes, but stupid. If anything, it was the Force doing it to him. 

“Kanan taught me empathy using Loth-cats.” Ezra said, continuing their previous conversation. “They’re all over Lothal, and the wild ones really don’t like people too much.” 

“Loth-cats?” 

“Yeah, round faced, big pointy ears, beady eyes. Sabine paints them all over my stuff, actually. They’ll rip your face off if you piss them off. Domesticated ones are called Tookas? It’s kind of what Lothal is known for.”

An explosion outdoors cut off their conversation. Tristan peered out of one of the blown out windows to see the AT-AT collapse to the ground, a blur of a man with a blue lightsaber jumping off the top. He almost didn’t notice blaster fire whizz by his head, followed by a trooper calling out for backup. He went to pull his blasters, but Ezra had it handled already, pushing the trooper back down the hall. He flew through the air and clattered against the wall, slumping on the floor. 

“The study is just down the hall, here,” Tristan called, leading Ezra by the incapacitated stormtrooper and around a corner. There, they found a large archway leading into a large personal library, with ceiling height shelves and desks for writing. Tristan had never been inside the Caces’ home before, and he assumed that it would have looked very nice at one point because now there were books strewn around and potted plants turned over. The vaulted ceilings made the room feel enormous, though in reality the ceilings were shorter than the ones at home. Tristan stepped around shattered glass from the windows while he and Ezra looked around the shelves for any hidden stormtroopers. 

“Odd. No troopers guarding the entrance?” Ezra asked. He sheathed his lightsaber and looked around, sliding a hand over the wood-paneled walls and looking for a way in. 

“I’m not quite sure where the entrance even is,” Tristan said, poking at the buttons on his wrist comm. “The blueprints don’t have any details on it. There’s just a big gap along that wall over there.” 

Ezra looked to the wall Tristan was pointing to, and put a hand on the bookshelf. He shut his eyes and looked as if he were concentrating as he had been when pacifying the beast from earlier.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to do it fast. Those reinforcements are bound to be coming soon,” Tristan called, blasters still in hand. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of trooper boots yet, but every second they spent out in the open brought him more worry. Even with a Jedi, he didn’t want to be caught by a squad of troopers in the study, which was only a dead end. 

Ezra’s eyes opened, and an audible click sounded from behind the bookshelves. One began to slide forward, and moved to the side to reveal the hidden room behind. Desks were overturned and all their furniture was thrown against the walls. The Cace family was huddled in the middle, held at gunpoint by a stormtrooper commander and a small squad of troopers, as if they’d been expecting someone to find them. The Lord and Lady were curled around their daughters, the youngest still in her pajamas and clutching a stuffed doll to her chest. Surprisingly, she wasn’t crying, and instead was watching the newcomers with wide eyes. Her parents seemed ill-prepared for a fight, both only donning half of their armor. The baroness’s hair had come undone, and dark, mahogany tresses fell around her face. The baron’s hair was equally as disheveled, and the two eldest daughters looked as if they too had been unable to fully equip their armor in time. He knew the Caces were skilled fighters, and also very intelligent. The stormtroopers must have invaded their home before they were able to do anything. 

Ezra ignited his lightsaber, and the commander held up a hand to stop his fellow troopers from firing on him immediately. 

“One of the Wrens, I see. And your Clan is now consorting with Jedi? I’m sure Governor Saxon will be delighted to hear of this.” 

“My sister killed Gar Saxon,” Tristan rebuked, hands going to his pistols. 

“Ah, you haven’t heard. His brother, Tiber, has taken his spot as Governor of Mandalore. And I hear he has it out for Sabine Wren. Your sister, then? At least I would assume so. Her helmet would look wonderful above the Emperor’s mantle. I hear she’s quite the artist.” 

“You’re not going anywhere  _ near  _ my sister if I have anything to say about it,” Tristan spat. 

“Well, I suppose the traitorous head of Tristan Wren will also suffice as a gift for the Emperor. Your betrayal of the late Governor has not gone unnoticed.” 

Ezra stepped forward, brandishing his lightsaber. “Here’s what’s going to happen, buckethead. You’re going to leave Krownest, and I _ won’t _ chop your head off, _ or  _ you can be a kriffing idiot about it and then I  _ will _ chop your head off. Those are your choices.” 

The commander scoffed, gesturing with his gun. “You’d believe that I could be intimidated by a child? What could you possibly think you could do--” his sentence was cut off as his gun was ripped from his hands by an invisible force. The butt of it slammed against his helmet with an audible _ thunk _ , and he crumpled to the floor, pitifully knocked out. Tristan looked back and forth between the Caces and the stormtroopers, trying not to laugh at the situation or the look of shock on their faces. 

“Anyone else got anything stupid to say?” Ezra asked, waving an arm around the room. The stormtroopers glanced at each other and dropped their guns, holding their hands in the air. 

Tristan moved to help the Lord and Lady up from the floor, and took their youngest into his arms. She was still remarkably unfazed by what was happening around her, watching Ezra’s lightsaber with curiosity. 

“Let’s get going. Sabine will be back for a pickup,” Tristan said, leading the Caces out of the study. Ezra followed behind, careful to watch out for any troopers that decided to tail them. 

“Thank you for the rescue, Lord Wren. Is the Countess leading the attack?” asked the baron, ushering his two eldest daughters through the halls. 

Tristan shuddered at the courtesy title, hearing Ezra’s snide remarks before they even came. “Yes, mother is outside now,” he said, peering around a corner before directing the Caces into the turbolift. “Sabine, Ezra, and I will escort you and your family to the stronghold.” 

The baroness turned to Ezra in the lift and took his hand, taking Ezra by surprise. “I know that Jedi and Mandalorians traditionally do not agree on most things, but I am happy to see that perhaps that can change. You are so young, and yet so brave. What is your name?”

Ezra’s eyebrows raised as he stammered out an answer. “It’s, uh, Ezra. Ezra Bridger. M’lady,” he tacked onto the end, visibly deflating when one of the girls giggled at his lack of professionalism. “I’m...a friend of Sabine’s.” 

“Ezra is a member of the Rebel Alliance,” Tristan piped up. Ezra shot him a thankful glance. “He and Sabine both are.” 

“Ah, a true fighter,” the baron said, letting Tristan lead them back to the hangar. “It is the highest honor to make your acquaintance.” 

“Uh. Likewise.” 

Ezra ducked as blaster fire shot past his head from an adjoining corridor. He pulled out his lightsaber immediately as Tristan did his best to shield the children from the fire and handed the baron and baroness his blasters. He pressed a button on his wrist comm to let Sabine know they were ready for a pickup, and let Ezra plow his way through stormtroopers while the Caces provided cover fire. Somehow, it became more and more amazing to watch the shorter boy as he proved himself as a swordsman. He was a blur of orange and green, slicing through troopers one by one and shoving them aside with a wave of his hand. His skill was admirable, and for the first time, Tristan found himself unashamed to admit it. 

Yes, Ezra  _ might _ have some redeeming qualities, as he had discovered. The Lady had been right in saying he showed considerable courage in the face of danger. Though he was occasionally annoying, he made up for it with wit and a grin that would make you forget anything he’d done that was irksome. So, maybe Sabine _ was _ right, but she didn’t need to know that. 

Ezra moved to defend the group from behind as they boarded the Gauntlet, only turning to jump onto the ramp after it took off. He easily made the jump and closed the ramp, sheathing his lightsaber and settling down into one of the Gauntlet’s seats. After making sure the Caces were okay, Tristan joined him in one of the nearby seats and took off his helmet for the first time that day, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. Ezra looked up to watch this and smiled. 

“...What?” Tristan asked, blinking, then frowning when Ezra’s smile turned to a grin. 

“Lord Wren.” 

Tristan groaned and rolled his eyes, gaining a loud laugh from Ezra. “It’s not that funny, you know. Sabine’s Lady Wren, I don’t see you laughing about that.” 

“Wha-what even are you? A duke?” Ezra laughed. 

“My father took the title of Earl when he married my mother. When Sabine assumes power, she will become Countess and I will remain as a Viscount, unless Sabine concedes the position to me, where I would become an Earl.” 

Ezra’s laughing turned to wheezing as he doubled over in his seat. “Viscount!” he exclaimed, as if it were the funniest word in the world. Tristan just rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but feel compelled to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. He let Ezra have his laugh and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment.  He soon opened them again when he felt a hand brush against his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. 

“We’re back at the stronghold. Mom says she’ll be back soon,” Sabine said, leaving Tristan alone in the Gauntlet.

Tristan nodded to his sister, stretching his arms up above his head and taking his helmet into his hands. Sabine was escorting the Caces inside the stronghold, and Ezra followed not far behind, showing off to the eldest Cace daughter, who was near Tristan’s age, waving his lightsaber hilt around and apparently telling a dramatic story. He thought to follow after and decided against it, opting to stand on the balcony outside and wait for his mother to return. It was only a few moments later that the rest of the Gauntlets came into view, with the  _ Phantom _ trailing the pack. The ship set down, and Sabine came back outside, bounding down the stairs to greet their mother and her friends. She chatted with them while Ursa climbed the stairs, coming to stand next to Tristan. 

“How did it go on the outside?” Tristan asked, nodding in greeting to the Countess. Ursa sighed, removing her helmet. 

“Well enough. We lost a warrior, however. Alora.”

Tristan sighed, leaning on the railing. “We’re not going to have anyone left at the end of this.” 

“Don’t be so negative, Tristan,” Ursa chided. “If the warriors see you like this, they’ll lose hope as well. It’s hard enough on them already.” 

“Tiber Saxon is Governor of Mandalore now. He’s got it out for Sabine, apparently.” 

Ursa pushed a sigh out of her nose and remained quiet, gazing out to the fresh piles of snow ringing the clearing. After a beat, she glanced in his direction warily. “How was it with Bridger?”

Tristan mulled this over for a moment, trying to decide what to say. He knew his mother still wasn’t too fond of both Jedi, and probably expected him to be careful with them himself. He watched as Ezra, now outside, talked energetically with Kanan and Zeb.

“It went well, I suppose. The Caces are alive, after all,” he decided, gaining himself a noncommittal hum from his mother. Ursa joined their company inside, leaving him alone on the balcony again. He watched as Sabine gave Zeb, Kanan, and Ezra a hug as they said their goodbyes and left them to board the Phantom. Ezra turned and looked around at the last second, as if he’d forgotten something, and finally made eye contact with Tristan. He waved and shot him a smile, and Tristan returned it, surprised that Ezra even bothered to say goodbye. 

Tristan's gaze followed the  _ Phantom _ into the sky once again, watching the light grey ship disappear into the developing clouds. Sabine came up beside him, leaning on the railing and watching with him. The siblings were quiet for a moment, the both of them breathing in the cold air and the calm following the previous battle. It was only mid-afternoon, but the day felt as if it had drug on for hours. Sabine’s eyes closed as she leaned forward on the railing, crossing her arms and setting her head in them. 

"I think I understand now," Tristan said, breaking the silence. "What you said about Ezra."

"Oh?" Sabine smiled, tired, propping her chin up on her hand. 

Tristan leaned forward on the railing as well, rubbing his hands together. "Maybe he's not as bad as I thought he was," he admitted. Sabine raised an eyebrow. 

"I told you you'd like him, even if you didn't want to." 

"I never said that I  _ liked _ him," Tristan pointed out, very defensively. A lie, of course, but Sabine didn't deserve the gratification of being right just yet. "I just said that he's not that bad."

Sabine stepped closer to him, rapping two knuckles on Tristan's right pauldron. "You should let me paint your armor. Something bright. Don't you ever get tired of the yellow and gray?” 

“Not really.” 

"Have you always been this boring?" Sabine teased, shoving her brother. 

Tristan shoved her back, laughing. "Have you always been so persistently annoying? That must be where Ezra gets it from." 

“Come on,” Sabine whined, fists clenched in front of her. “Don’t be a spoilsport. I’ll even let you pick what it is. Anything at all. A _jai'gaalar_. Even a _strille_. It'll look cool." 

Tristan thought for a moment, looking out to the blueish-gray lake, and smiled. 

“How about a Loth-cat? A little one.” 

Sabine raised her eyebrows. “A...Loth-cat? I mean, I guess I can, I just--” she paused for a moment, lowering her tone to a questioning one. “Why do you want a Loth-cat?” 

Tristan was quiet for a moment, thinking up something to say. “Ezra said you paint them all over his stuff. You might as well paint one on my stuff. You know,” he rubbed his neck, still looking out to the lake, and gestured vaguely with his hand. “Brotherhood. And stuff.” 

Sabine watched him for a moment, brows furrowed curiously. Eventually she shook her head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him inside with a smile on her face.

“Whatever you say, little brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The animals Sabine references there at the end are a shriek-hawk and a strill, both native Mandalorian animals. I would have picked something from Krownest, but there's no information on the animals that live there. I hope y'all realize these past two chapters have just been a convoluted series of setups to explain why Tristan has the Loth-cat pauldron, which is something I scream about a lot on my Tumblr 😂 The next chapter will be heading back into canon territory with Zero Hour pt 2!


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